Save me
by Brianlvr-1
Summary: Brian is 15. Justin is 17. They meet in school. Sparks fly.


Brian and Justin went to high school together where they were boyfriends. After graduation, Justin moved away. Six years later, Brian moves to New York after he gets a job offer...where, coincidentally, Justin lives now. Justin is in an abusive relationship with his boyfriend, Ethan. What will happen when the former lovers meet again?  
  
2004  
  
It's been six years since I've seen him. I think about him every minute of every day. I wonder where he is now. If he's in a relationship. If he's in love with someone else. I can't blame him. I never expected him to just not move on, after I left him...hurt him.  
  
1999  
  
"I have to go," I said to him behind the school after the high school graduation ceremony.  
  
"What? Why?" he asked, confused.  
  
"I just do. I'm sorry," I replied.  
  
I could see the pain, the hurt, in his deep hazel eyes. "Where?" he asked me.  
  
"It doesn't matter," I said, "but I have to go."  
  
"Justin, you promised me that after we graduated..."  
  
"I know." I could see the tears welling up in his eyes. "But I can't stay here," I hesitated, and then said, "I promise I'll call you, I swear, okay?" I reached to touch his arm but he moved away from me.  
  
"No, don't touch me," he was crying now, not noisily, just tears rolling down his face, "How could you do this? You said you loved me....just last night Justin!"  
  
"I know, and I do, really, but....the truth is.....I decided to go to NYU."  
  
He didn't say anything, he just walked away, back into the building, and I got into my car and drove off.  
  
2004  
  
I still don't know why I did it. I can't explain why I didn't ask him to come with me, he probably would have, but I didn't ask. That was the last time I saw him. Six years. Six long, painful, regretful years. I sat in front of the window in my mediocre apartment thinking about it. How could I hurt him like that? And I never even called. I picked up the phone to call about one hundred times, but I couldn't get up the courage to do it. I didn't know what to say. A year after I moved here, my grades started to slip and I got kicked out of NYU. I could've gone back to Pittsburg to find him, but I was afraid of what I'd see. I was afraid that he'd have already moved on. So, I moved out of the dorms. I lived on the streets for a couple of weeks, trying to figure out what to do. Then, one night, a car pulled up in front of me.  
  
2000  
  
I was sitting on the booth, where I came every night to just think. I hadn't gotten a full night sleep in nearly three weeks. I was pathetic. I was looking down into my lap and I heard a car slow down and come to a stop in front of me. I looked up. The guy in the car rolled down his window. He had black curly hair and dark eyes. He was alright looking, I'd seen better. He smiled.  
  
"Hey, you need some help," he asked.  
  
I waited, then shook my head, "No, thanks," I said, and then looked down.  
  
He didn't move, "I see you out here every night. You got a place to live?" he asked.  
  
I was confused. Why did he care? Really, I just wanted him to leave me alone, but I found myself shaking my head no.  
  
"Get in," he said off-handedly.  
  
I looked at him, "What?" I asked.  
  
"I said get in, you can stay with me for awhile," he told me.  
  
"Are you kidding? Why?" Was this guy nuts?  
  
"Hey, I know what it's like to be homeless dude. I've been there. As long as you're not a murderer," he smiled again, "I'll let you crash at my place until you get on your feet."  
  
I was about to tell him to fuck off....I thought he was psycho, but I was desperate, really desperate. I got into the car. Big mistake. Really big mistake.  
  
He took me to his place, where I still live now. The wallpaper was peeling off the old walls. The bed was in the middle of the living room. The whole place smelled of cat piss, but I didn't say anything. This place must've been really old. The bathroom was barely big enough for one person to fit in there. The bathtub was gross. The kitchen was small....very very small. I sighed.  
  
I asked a very obvious question, "Where will I sleep?" There wasn't even a couch.  
  
"Uh, the bed is big enough for two," he said casually.  
  
Was he kidding? I was about to turn and haul ass out of there, but I had no where else to go, so I stayed. Another big mistake. His name was Ethan.  
  
I never did 'get back on my feet'. I was doing dead end jobs at Wal-Marts and K-Marts and coffee shops. I could hardly pay half the rent that I insisted on paying. I'd been living there for only two weeks. I hated the nights. I laid there, awake, trying to drown out his loud snoring...an impossible task.  
  
One Saturday night, he came home in a strange mood. He kept touching me and telling me how beautiful I was. I thought he was drunk. I tried to move away from his touch, but he kept on.  
  
"Come on, I'll make you feel real good," he'd said. He walked toward me, but I kept backing up. Soon, I backed into the bed and he pushed me down so I was lying on it and he was on top of me.  
  
"No," was all I could say. I hadn't had sex since Brian. I always felt as if I'd still be cheating on him, even though we weren't together anymore. And I sure didn't want to have sex with Ethan. I couldn't fight it. I didn't want him to get mad at me, so I let him fuck me. I hated it, he loved it. I fell asleep that night crying, half from the physical pain, and half from the mental pain.  
  
It didn't stop. Whenever he was horny, I'd be there. Soon, we were in a relationship. About a year later, he started beating me. I'd do something he didn't like or he'd just be pissed off from work, and he'd take it out on me. I could've let, but I didn't. I was brainwashed. In public, we weren't together. He didn't want anyone to know he was gay. We were just roommates to everyone else, but in private, he called us lovers.  
  
I cried myself to sleep every night after that. What had happened to me? In high school, I would've never put up with this shit from anyone. Once, he told me he loved me, I didn't reply. I didn't know what to say. Did I love him? No. Would I ever love him? No. He beat me almost every night. The other nights, he'd fuck me. It was in no way romantic. He'd get off, and I'd just lay there. It never felt good, the way it always did with Brian. God, I missed him so much.  
  
2004  
  
Now, I'm just sitting here, brooding, like every night. I looked over at the bed, Ethan was sleeping soundly. I winced from the pain in my ribs. I had a busted lip and a black eye. Bruises covered my ribs and back from him kicking me. After a while, I went over to the bed, lying as far away from him as possible, and fell asleep thinking if my life would ever be normal again. 


End file.
